


Milk Maid (For Science)

by AnotherAnon0



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Albert breastfeeds the Ivan twins, DO NOT READ THIS, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fucked Up, M/M, Male Lactation, Masturbation, Motherhood Kink, Nipple Play, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, erotic breastfeeding, innocence kink, thats it, what the fuck am I doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-20 18:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Albert tries to solve the problem of tyrant infant mortality by designing a lactation drug.After injecting himself with it as part of the scientific endeavour, he ends up enjoying the effects more than he should.[Heed tags!]
Relationships: Ivan | Tyrant T-103 Variation/Albert Wesker
Comments: 22
Kudos: 17





	Milk Maid (For Science)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xXxBishopxXx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxBishopxXx/gifts).



Albert had just been curious. 

He was a scientist, after all. It was his job - nay, his purpose - to be curious. 

He was just trying to solve a problem, that's all. 

While the humanoid tyrant reproduction program had been progressing splendidly, the laboratory team was consistently encountering one problem of urgent need to rectify. Once born, it would be difficult to _nourish_ the infant tyrants.

The laboratory had tried everything. Drugs, meat, blood (of all varieties), even _baby food_. The same nutrient cocktails administered to adult tyrants seemed to have no beneficial effect on the newborns, and the laboratory had already lost two infant tyrants in the process of experimenting with nourishment. The program was absolutely necessary for the Umbrella Corporation's continued profitability, but between the deaths of two infant tyrants and the incredible costs they had incurred trying to get them to thrive, they were _losing_ money.

To Albert, the answer had seemed obvious. 

Like most infants from all mammalian species, the tyrants likely needed some sort of _maternal excretion_ to fulfil their needs. They may have been mutant beasts of war, but they were based on the biological makeup of human beings. The newborns needed nourishing milk rich with their own hormones and all of the components of life. If they could just figure out how to get a reproduction tyrant to nurse, he was _sure_ the infant mortality would drop.

Despite his strong arguments at a floor meeting, his theory had quickly been shrugged off by the rest of the team. Even Birkin had expressed his doubts, and a few of the junior virologists had even _laughed_ at him.

But with one newborn tyrant left and barely clinging on to life, Albert was determined to prove his idea had been correct.

One night, after the rest of the scientists had cleared out, he went about creating the simple formula. It had taken him no more than a few hours to map out the proper viral strain and hormone combination that would prompt a tyrant to lactate, and he was quickly able to synthesise a shot of the injectable cocktail.

It wasn't until he was smugly holding the tiny, amber vial of his creation - thinking himself quite the genius - that Albert realised he didn't actually have anything to test it on.

All of the mature tyrants required _two_ Umbrella ID passcodes to unlock the suspension chambers of. They were a natural safety risk, after all. And while he knew Birkin's off by heart, the other man would have surely castrated him if anything went awry. He was already in hot water with the executive board over another viral mishap, and couldn't afford a second.

It was with some internal grumbling that Albert finally decided to be his own guinea pig -- administering a dose to his thigh muscle after a brief calculation accounting for his weight, height, blood type, and human anatomy. 

He was a scientist, after all.

This was just part and parcel of the scientific endeavour.

He could see if the formula worked, note anything worth noting, and test if his theory had been correct. 

He sat by the newborn tyrant's hyperbaric chamber as he waited, one that had been set up in the centre of the main lab space. The little beast was heaving and wheezing inside, coal black, scaled skin glistening with clammy sweat as its life continued to slip away from it. It was an ugly thing, born of a T-001 just two nights ago. The team had likely been correct that it wouldn't have survived into morning.

Albert had almost fallen asleep in his chair by the time the first sensations set in, nearly an hour after injection. 

A tingle in his bosom. At first, so faint he'd barely thought it more than an itch. 

His face then began to flush warmer and warmer, until he almost felt like he had a fever. 

For a moment, he was almost concerned. But when he finally looked down to see his nipples standing at full attention beneath his thin dress shirt, wet stains seeping through the fabric, a wild smile came over his face. 

It was _working_. 

Albert frantically unbuttoned his shirt to get a closer look at himself, feeling quite proud of his scientific prowess as he took in the steady, slow drip of milk trickle from each of his rock-hard nipples. They were blushing, areolas a darker red that led a gradient out towards his chest. Curiously, he pinched some of the milk between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it and testing its viscosity. 

So enamoured with the miracle of his creation that he barely recalled why he had made it in the first place. That was, until the tyrant infant began sputtering and coughing weakly, its struggles grabbing his attention.

Albert opened the hyperbaric chamber carefully. With a curious finger, he swiped up some more milk from one of his nipples, reaching towards the infant and offering it. When he dabbed the milk on its lipless, toothless maw, it immediately responded. Its snake-like tongue flicked at the droplets, at first tepidly and then _greedily_. Immediately, it was as though some life had been injected back into its being, limbs thrashing excitedly. 

_'It's going to work!_ ' Albert thought, repeating the gesture quickly.

When it was clear the newborn was eager to be fed, and that offering single drops on the end of his finger wasn't going to do all that much to quench its thirst, Albert hesitantly reached into the chamber and lifted the infant tyrant out. It was clawless and toothless, and, despite its still relatively impressive strength, wasn't a threat.

It was at least two times bigger and heavier than a newborn human, but Albert was still able to wrangle it with ease. He plopped back in his chair and set the tyrant's bottom in his hips, raising its huge, hairless head and offering it a hormone-induced, leaking nipple. 

Albert had anticipated it would be a novel sensation. He'd been quite curious to stoically document the stimuli it might have come with, in fact.

He was a scientist, after all.

What he didn't anticipate was that it would _feel so fucking good_. 

Albert tossed his head back and involuntarily belted a loud moan when the creature latched, desperately gumming at his nipple as it tasted the nourishing, life-giving milk it so desperately needed. Albert was unable to do anything but allow it to ravage him, the beast slurping his ducts almost empty within a few minutes. It became quite rambunctious then, growling and purring in a wordless demand for more.

Despite the shiver in his arms, Albert was forced to alternate the creature to his other nipple, his body's brand new supply utterly incapable of meeting the demand as of yet. His eyes nearly rolled in his head when the infant tyrant got to work on his unmolested bud, sucking and tonguing at it almost as frantically as it had the first. 

Albert was a clammy, grunting mess by the time it naturally decoupled from him. His legs trembled as he stood to bring the creature back to its chamber, the little B.O.W falling into a deep, satiated sleep almost the moment its head hit the somewhat-padded mattress inside. 

It took him a few minutes to compose himself afterwards, nipples numb and throbbing. 

He'd rushed from the laboratory to the carpark, haphazardly buttoning his shirt the whole way. He drove to the nearest 24-hour pharmacy, looking rather deranged in his mis-buttoned shirt and lab coat as he asked the clerk what the most powerful breast pump they had was. Purchase in hand, he immediately ripped through the box, barely making it to his car before he had the thing unwrinkled from its packaging, leaving a trail of instruction booklets and plastic wrap in his wake.

He didn't even care that he was in a parking lot when he shoved the cups beneath his shirt, whimpering and groaning in his car as he rode out a touch-less orgasm with the pressure of the little machine's suction alone. 

\--

The next day, Albert presented a single bottle of his own breastmilk to the lab team, all of whom were in awe of the infant tyrant's miraculously recuperated health.

He claimed it was artificial, and that he'd developed the lactation hormones for the tyrants in the event it worked. Fortunately, they believed him.

He was a scientist, after all.

At the subsequent board meeting that day, he was heaped with praise from the executives for solving the problem of mortality among the newborn tyrants, and the corporate suits delighted at the news they would no longer be bleeding money in the reproduction program. 

While Albert had sat there, bristling with smugness, he was _uncomfortably_ aware of the pads he'd had to apply to his leaking nipples to catch their excessive production. He'd known the effects of the drug wouldn't be instantaneously resolved, and had expected a few days of side effects while the hormones cycled out of his system. But coupled with the newfound pleasure in his state he'd not expected at all, Albert could only think about when his shift was over so he could go home and squeeze his tits into submission. 

Having spent the entire night at the laboratory, making the drugs and then dealing with the infant tyrant, he'd only had a few hours to himself before he had to come in for his shift again -- and every minute of those few hours had been dedicated to milking himself raw. He'd masturbated with the breast pumps suckling his nipples, moaning like a wild animal through orgasm after orgasm. He couldn't recall a time when he'd felt so overstimulated. 

Still, while his fingers were good and the breast pump was great, nothing compared to the feeling of when the infant tyrant had utterly ravaged his chest with hungry, greedy lips. Albert couldn't help but wish he had someone to see him through to the end of his ordeal with a thirst that ravenous. 

"Comrade Wesker?"

"Hmm?" Albert hadn't realised he'd zoned out for a moment, Sergei staring him down from the end of the long boardroom table, "What? Sorry, I was... thinking about a formula."

Sergei cocked his brow, "We were just considering the implications of a mass production for the... ah... _stimulant_ you created. Do you think this is viable?"

Albert shrugged, "I will look into it and get back to you."

Sergei nodded, turning his attention back to the room. As he spoke, Albert's eyes fluttered towards the twin tyrants standing at the back of the room. The Ivans -- a pair of T-101s customised to be Sergei's personal bodyguards and assistants. The two were sanding stoically, hands folded behind their backs. But Albert couldn't help but notice that they were continuously flicking their empty, pupil-less gaze towards him.

They would stare, cast a quick glance at each other, and then try to resume their positions as mighty statue-like beings. Minutes later, they'd do it again -- like they were silently communicating about him. 

Albert furrowed his brow above the rim of his dark glasses, trying to focus on any little detail he could. And then he saw it -- a little twitch in one of their nostrils.

They could _smell_ him. They could smell the stink of the hormones radiating off of him. 

Albert had to suppress a smile. He also had to pretend he wasn't hyper-focused on their lips and and what those strong jaws could do to relieve him of some of the pressure in his chest. 

Perhaps, just perhaps, adult tyrants could benefit from the milk as much as the infants did. Albert felt he had an obligation to test out this new theory.

He was a scientist, after all.

When the meeting concluded, Albert practically chased Sergei down as the corporate executive began to trail down the hall towards the exit.

"Oh! Sergei! Sergei!" He was fluttering his papers like a damsel waiving down a carriage with her kerchief. 

The older man stopped and turned, somewhat surprised at the enthused pursuit by a man who often wanted nothing to do with him.

"Yes? What can I do for you, comrade?"

Albert cleared his throat, "I-- uh..." He realised quickly he hadn't thought his entire plan through, failing to have come up with an excuse to _loan_ the twins in advance. Sergei cocked his eyebrow in confusion, tilting his head to the side.

"You?"

Albert licked his lips, "I need to uh... to... uh... borrow! Borrow your tyrants tonight."

Sergei looked taken aback, "You need Ivan? Why?"

"It's for the company! Yes. For -- uh... for a test!" He knew Sergei could be quickly persuaded if a benefit to Umbrella could somehow be stuffed into the excuse, "Yes, I am uh... conducting a test on a new... thing. And it shows a lot of promise to help the company! But I do need some test subjects, and your tyrants are the most domesticated, so I won't need to worry for excessive safety protocols."

Sergei nodded slowly, still obviously confused, "I see... Well, it will not harm them, will it?"

"No! No, of course not. They'll be fine!"

Sergei flicked a long piece of bang out of his face, clearly considering the request. While he bit his cheek, Albert's eyes turned towards the twin tyrants, who were clearly very interested in his close proximity to them. Their empty eyes were bearing holes into him, sensing the waves of nourishing hormones undulating off of his body. 

"Well -- I suppose." Sergei finally said, "If it is for Umbrella."

"Oh yes, of course!" Albert nodded sincerely, trying to suppress a mad, childish giggle.

"When do you need them? I can have a driver deliver them once we are finished for the day."

"Anytime tonight is fine. Just uh... have them dropped off at my condo in the uptown."

Sergei's eyebrows plucked upwards, "Your condo, comrade? Not the laboratory?"

Albert cleared his throat again, "Well I have a office in my condo, you see."

"Ah."

"And uh... this doesn't require any uh... equipment. It's a behavioural... test. A behavioural-intelletual test. For science."

"Mm." Sergei nodded slowly, "I see." The older man shrugged, "Okay... well, I suppose they will see you later, comrade." 

Albert couldn't contain a wild smile as Sergei turned on the heels of his boots and started down the hall once more. 

"Yes... they will."

\--

The twins were dropped off around 6:30 p.m.

Sergei's driver respectfully left without asking any questions, though Albert had preemptively offered that he'd "just gotten out of the shower" to explain away the fact that he had answered the door in nothing but a robe. 

He ushered the beasts inside his upscale condominium, the two clicking and meeping curiously as they took in their new surroundings. Albert didn't hesitate to snatch up one hand from each and tug them towards the bedroom. The twins followed steadily, massive bodies having to bend and twist to crane their way through the doorframe, too short for their massive 7 foot statures. 

Albert practically leaped onto the bed, giggling stupidly as he revelled deviously like a child at the utter obscenity of what he was about to do. 

He sat on the bed and fumbled the belt of his robe open, letting the material open to reveal his bare body. His nipples were already flushed, hard nubs moist with the occasional loose droplet of milk steadily pearling at the tips.

The twins repeated the innocent, silent musing they had done in the boardroom -- glances flicking from each other to Albert, obviously interested in what was happening. 

"O-okay, Ivan, come here!" He said sweetly, patting the mattress on either side of his hips. He didn't quite know how to talk to them, but Sergei usually just gave them orders in plain language and they never seemed confused. 

Sure enough, the two took a tandem step forward, a bit closer the bed.

"Come here!" Albert urged with a grin, patting the bed a bit harder.

Again, they took another step.

Albert rolled his eyes, reaching out and snatching each of the beasts by their long, white limiter trench coats. He led one to one side of the bed and the other to the opposite, pulling them onto the mattress. The stumbled awkwardly onto the soft platform, falling onto their hips like they'd never sat down before. Perhaps they hadn't, Albert mused, it wasn't something a tyrant really needed to do. 

Albert slipped his hand around the back of their hairless heads, encouraging them to lean in a bit closer.

"You-- just need to try, that's all..." Albert rasped, the sensation of their warm breath whispering against his skin making his heart beat a bit faster, "Just uh... t-try it."

The twin tyrants seemed to consider the blushing buds that were inches away from their faces for a moment. They were sniffing and blinking innocently -- almost seeming _shy,_ if shy was an emotion tyrants could feel.

Tepidly, one let its dark-grey tongue fall from its lips, Albert's breath catching in his throat as he watched the muscle close the short distance and curiously lapping at his leaking nipple.

"F-fuck!" A shockwave of pleasure immediately rattled up Albert's spine, his outburst causing the two to jerk away and peep like shocked dogs, "O-oh n-no, it's okay! Ah... its okay! Come back..." 

The twins looked at each other, the one who had tasted his milk clearly rolling his tongue around in his mouth, swallowing every so often. After a moment of pause, it was as though something excitedly clicked in their primitive minds. They quickly leaned back in, and this time both of them took a nipple into their mouths. 

"O-oh y- _yeahhh_!" He groaned, trying to hiss through his teeth so as not to scare them away again. He wiggled his bottom into the bed, head lulling back as he felt the tongues roughly swipe across his buds. 

Albert clasped the back of the tyrant's heads, pulling them into his chest in a tight, needy embrace. They gagged slightly as their thin lips were forced to widen to take in more of the flesh of his firm, muscular bosom, cheeks hollowing as they continued to suck harder in tandem. The blond could feel waves undulate through his guts, heavy and hot. He'd never felt such orgasmic bliss, it compared to no other pleasure he'd ever experienced. 

Though it was obviously a foreign experience, the Ivans were clearly delighted with the nourishing milk they were being fed. One even wrapped a hand around Albert's naked waist, holding its feeder in place as it sucked firmly on the nipple it had been assigned to. They were suckling like calfs on their mother's udder, greedy and hungry. The two had never tasted such delicious nectar, something in the creamy milk satisfying them on a primal level. 

They filled their mouths before swallowing, rough, heavily textured tongues dancing around the nipples in their mouths as they drank. 

All the while, Albert was practically _drooling_. His eyes were rolling behind fluttering lashes, a delirious smile plucking at the edges of his lips. He couldn't resist slipping a hand between his legs and grabbing his rock-hard cock, perversely wondering if he could somehow get one of the beasts to suckle at it with the other at his teat. He was sure it would be nothing short of mind-blowing.

"F-fuck y-yeah, d-drink it a-all, b-boys...!" He choked, head tossed back and tongue lulling from his lips as his hips bucked upwards, orgasm rapidly approaching.

As though they could understand, the Ivans began to suck even harder. Albert could _feel_ his nipples being pulled deep into their mouths. He could even _feel_ the milk being slurped from his swollen ducts, cascades of the nourishing cream pouring down the twins' throats.

He furiously stroked and squeezed his shaft as he continued to feed the twins, encouraging them to suck him absolutely dry through ravenous, ragged moans. In that moment he wouldn't have cared if that was all he did for the rest of his life. He'd gladly have been a milk maid to tyrants if he could experience that sort of pleasure all the time. It was the most perverted heaven on earth imaginable. 

"C-comrade?"

A trembling, anxiety-laced voice forced Albert's eyes to burst open in shock. 

At the door to his bedroom, Sergei was standing stone still -- two brown paper lunchbags dangling out of one of his raised hands. They read _**IVAN**_ in colourful marker.

 _"V-Vanya_! _Prekrati eto_!" He said, normally deep, rolling accent reduced to almost a whimper. 

Immediately, the tyrants pulled away, heads turning to look at their master. One had a droplet of milk cascading down its chin, white contrasting cutely against its almost-blue skin.

Despite the flush of humiliation that swiped across his cheeks, Albert couldn't stop fisting his cock, far too close to orgasm to cease his ministrations. Within seconds, tendrils of white cum shot out over his belly, abdominal muscles cramping and legs falling limp. Sergei could only watch, unscarred eye wide in a mix of vicarious embarrassment and shock. 

"F-fuck, S-Sergei..." Albert heaved and huffed, trying sheepishly to cover himself, "Y-you c-can't jus-just barge in t-to my house!"

Sergei swallowed, "I... heard screaming and... I was worried for you... comrade." He cleared his throat, watching his tyrants slip from Albert's bed and stride over to him, shoulders almost curled in what could have been _shame_ , if shame was an emotion tyrants could feel.

"W-what were you doing... to my Ivan?" Sergei asked, arms hanging a bit lower as he assessed the Ivans for any signs of damage, as though expecting some.

"Uh..." Albert cleared his throat, "It-- it was for science."

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write this? Blame Bishop. 
> 
> This was written in like... 2 hours (with snack breaks) so please don't come for me, this is terrible writing TT-TT


End file.
